So, we came home from something or other the other day, and Eddie noticed that "his" roses weren't as big as his sister's rose. (Basically, one of hers had bloomed and his were still buds.)
These are roses we bought at stupid-big-box store years ago. Just roots, really, and the one Eddie picked out got damaged the first year. I don't remember if it was while I was planting or after or what, but it's never been as bloomy as the one Abby picked out. So when he got out of the car to see one of hers blooming big, and his just (finally) starting to thrive (thank you TAGRO), he was upset. We explained that his were coming, and all sorts of things. But he was still upset.
We, I thought, all went inside. After a little bit, we look around. Where's Eddie? We call his name, nothing. Shout downstairs, nothing. Shout out the back door, nothing. I finally walk out the front door and spot Eddie still standing on the sidewalk, in front of his rose.
"Eddie, whattaya doin'?"
"Talking to my rose. To help it grow."
Wow.
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2 comments:
John doesn't believe talking to plants helps them grow. I talk to my plants all the time. Go Eddie!
It sounds absurd, but I do hear that talking to flowers and plants do help in some way.
They somehow create this "relationship" and preternatural closeness.
Anyway, good luck to Eddie!
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